


Snow Globe Inspiration

by Futsin



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Gunplay, Homophobes Get Played Because They're Bigot Jerks, Homophobia, Robbery, Vigilante Justice, distraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24161476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Futsin/pseuds/Futsin
Summary: When caught between aisles of twinkies and an unhinged youth with a handgun, what does Sam Axe do? Does he do as he do, his best friend Mike do, or does he wonder... what would Fi do?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Snow Globe Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



> This was written as a prompt back in 2013. Phew boy, lot has changed.

Had to be the long break. Yeah, that’s it. There was no movement on Anson, no CIA operations, no new intel, no side-jobs; not for a week or two. It was summer, humid and sweltering, with a touch of agonizing. Even though it was pitch black outside, nothing had cooled. It just made the shadows even more stifling and compressing than usual. All those little factors and minutia after a few too many days relaxing with Mojitos… hell, what a perfect time to make a mistake. As luck would have it, Sam made one. The job wasn’t it and neither was his approach. But things had gone all sideways now and here he was with a Glock pointed at him, trying to think of what technique to pull. Anything to not get killed by some punk who really just needed counseling and some time in the joint to straighten him out.

Sam had walked in the convenience store, epic chin jutting and smirk-of-stone on his mug, looking around for the signs of him. The kid was about to skip town and had a penchant for stealing from convenience stores for quick cash. Quickr-S Mart was the right place, but within a few seconds of finding his perch to wait, the great Sam Axe found he’d chosen the wrong time.

Lanky, be-hoodied, gun-totin’ Geoffrey walked right in and wasted no time. In seconds, his pistol was sideways in the clerk’s face and his mouth was spitting bad words and worse breath. The only other patron froze in place, holding their uncooked burrito by the microwave. It wasn’t a few more moments before the robber turned on Sam and the other patron. “DOWN, BACK!” he shouted, like he had some kind of authority because he knew how to pull a trigger. Then the gun was turned on the clerk again, the contents of the register being emptied quickly. This wasn’t going to go well, Sam realized, as the kid was obviously in a hurry and with an itchy trigger finger it made things all the worse. If he followed him afterwards, it was likely shots would be exchanged, some tricky plan would have to come up, and in the end something would probably go wrong. It felt like that one of those nights where it happened. The wrong move, the wrong play. He needed something new. Here. Now. In the moment.

Geoffrey had almost had what he wanted when he decided to get greedy. Another shout to empty a safe, a non-existent one behind the counter. Sam needed to think faster. The trigger-finger was on the actual trigger now. He looked around, finding no clues, no hints… until his eyes landed on a snow globe next to the register. Instantly Fi came to mind, her collection and her wiles and her ways. It gave him something to think about. “What would Fi do?” Michael would make some kind of dumb-ass risky play that nearly got him killed and Sam didn’t want to chance it. So what would the feisty Irish lass do in a time like this?

Back at ground-zero of the mayhem, the clerk replied in between sobs that there was no safe behind the counter. It was in the office, time-locked, and only the manager had the key. Geoff didn’t like that and threatened to shoot the clerk. “I’ll pop a cap in your ass, you little SHIT!” he’d said.

Bingo. Sam remembered a detail the woman who gave him the job had said. Geoffrey was homophobic. It gave him just enough of an idea.

When the Glock turned back on Sam, Geoff gave another shout, “you STAY THERE!” only for Sam to suddenly shout, “oh, puh-leeze, no!” His hands went limp, his balance shifted, and his eyes lit up with faux fear. The lisp was coming on now, as was the daintiness. Geoff stopped in his tracks at the sudden change in Sam. “What?” he said, incredulous. Sam went on, effeminate voice thickening. “Gosh, I just couldn’t stand to die in this place! Please, just give the man what he wants, sir!” He was talking to the clerk now, but Geoff was on him entirely. “Shut the hell up, don’t think I won’t put one in your leg!” Sam gasped, “No! Anything but these legs! I’ve spent too much time on them.”

Both the clerk and the other patron were completely speechless as, again, Geoff was still on Sam’s persona as “Sammy.” Finally he stepped forward, away from the counter, towards this annoyance. The Glock was shaking in his hand now. “Please, just tell Sammy what’s wrong. You don’t have to do this, hon.” Sam was beginning to feel that sense of worry that somehow Fi or Mike would find out about this. Jesse would understand, but… “You shut your trap right now-” Geoff faltered as Sam interrupted him. “You’re a sweet boy. What are you doing this for? Is it trouble at home? Come now, you can just walk away, it’ll be all right.” Geoff was getting closer now, pulled in by both hope and anger, and Sam shifted his footing again. Almost there.

Geoff’s eyes softened a little on Sam’s face, a desire to hate and a desire to be heard both in a single moment. He would have hesitated were it not for the fact doing this would serve the kid some good. When he was just close enough, almost with the gun to Sam’s actual temple, he struck. His hand gripped the gun hand, turning the weapon upwards. A shot fired into the ceiling, away from harm. With another twist, the gun was falling to the floor and Sam’s other hand came right up. Gripped Geoff’s arm, turned it, spun the kid down to the ground. A perfect take-down. Slammed to the floor, the robber with delusions of power was pressed down and incapacitated. Sam kicked the gun away and wrangled Geoffrey until his hands were behind his back. “JESUS CHRIST!” the kid screamed and Sam’s soft effeminate voice replied, “you just robbed the wrong store, sweet thing." He didn’t realize he was still speaking it, telling the kid he was headed to jail, that it was time to face consequences, to wise up, get his shit together. Soft and tender and gay as all get-out.

That is, until Sam looked up and saw a completely perplexed Michael standing in the store’s doorway. Suddenly the persona dropped. "Mikey! Hey, man, just clearing up this job. Gimme a hand.”

They had the kid in the back of Sam’s car and went back inside to talk it out with the clerk. The other patron had gotten their burrito and left already. Things got squared away in about twenty minutes and they were good to go. “Hey, what’d you come here to get anyway?” Sam asked, knowing Mike had no idea why he was headed this way. “Oh. I was on my way home and needed to get some Yogurt,” Mike replied, quickly getting some from the back chilled goods corner.

The two finally exited in silence, on their way back to their vehicles. Mike got in the Charger before Sam finally spoke up. “Uh… don’t tell Fi, ok?” Mike smirked. “Of course.”


End file.
